"CIT" 2002 Obituary

CITRON o@ca.on.york_county.toronto.globe_and_mail 2002-11-25 published
The supernova of ballet
Fun-loving character dancer lived life to the fullest
By Paula CITRON
Monday, November 25, 2002 -- Page R7
Toronto -- When John
CRANKO's
TheTaming of the Shrew entered
the National Ballet of Canada's repertoire in February, 1992,
there were four advertised casts, and I was slated to see them
all. It was Peter
OTTMANN, then a first soloist who was appearing
as Lucentio, who told me about a fifth performance -- a student
matinee that featured a new member of the corps de ballet as Petruchio.
When one dancer singles out another to a dance writer, you listen,
and even though I was in Shrew overload, I was there that Thursday
afternoon to experience the explosive dance phenomenon known as William
MARRIź.
His maddeningly male, politically incorrect Petruchio kicked
butt and gave no quarter, and I thought he was one of the sexiest
men alive, let alone that the guy could dance up a storm.
"I felt he was going to be brilliant which is why I mentioned
the performance," recalled Mr.
OTTMANN. "
From what he was showing
in rehearsal, I knew he was going to be a major player of the next generation."
Reid ANDERSON, who staged the ballet, was the National Ballet's
artistic director at the time.
"One noticed immediately William's beautiful feet and legs, and
handsome, chiselled features," he said from his office at the
Stuttgart Ballet in Germany. "He had the raw animal charisma
that I thought would be perfect for the role."
Mr. MARRIź was Shakespeare's Petruchio in real life, too -- a
hard-drinking, hard-living, fun-loving bon vivant with an appetite for excitement.
His death in Manhattan on Nov. 16 -- just two days before his
34th birthday -- was a shock, but not the manner of his going.
His motorcycle collided with a cab and three operations couldn't save him.
Mr. MARRIź often alluded to the notion that he would die young
on his beloved bike. Perhaps that's why he lived every moment to the fullest.
"He had a James
DEAN quality about him," said National Ballet
principal dancer Rex
HARRINGTON, "like he was doomed to live
fast, die young and become a supernova."
Mr. MARRIź was in New York because he was the second cast lead
in the Twyla
THARP/Billy
JOEL dance musical hit Movin' Out. The
company had been searching for over six months for an acting
dancer to play Eddie in the matinees until they found Mr.
MARRIź.
"He was hungry, a quality I admire," Ms.
THARP said. "He came
to a role that was already defined, but he made it his own."
Perhaps the most astonishing fact about Mr.
MARRIź was that he
didn't begin serious dance training until he was 19.
Born and raised in Montreal, he had an unsettled early life.
His parents separated when he was young and he had a volatile
relationship with his father. By his teens, Mr.
MARRIź was a
street-smart, dyslexic dropout hanging out in bad company. He
had also been a beach bum in Hawaii, and in fact, when he got
the Broadway role earlier this year, he moved to the New Jersey
shore so he could surf every morning before going to the theatre.
He became interested in classical dance after seeing Jorge
DUNN
of the Bājart company perform in a movie. More to the point,
he told Friends later, a dance school was home to a plethora
of half-naked women in leotards.
Vincent WARREN, his first teacher at L'źcole supārieure de danse
du Quābec, remembered a guy who walked in off the street in 1987
wearing a tattered track suit on a bronzed body that was born
to dance. Daniel
SEILLIER, his second teacher, recalled the big
personality whose wildness manifested itself in a maniacal urge
to succeed.
After graduating, Mr.
MARRIź spent the summer at the Banff Centre's
dance program where he solidified his legend as a Casanova.
He joined the National in 1990, and while not quite the stately
prince with beautiful lines, he excelled in the dramatic, demi-character
roles requiring both strong technique and acting.
Mr. MARRIź never held back on-stage nor in his personal life,
said James
KUDELKA, the National's artistic director. Close Friends
like Richard
LANDRY and Christopher
BODY from the National, and
Sean D'ANDRADE, who works in hospitality, are full of William
MARRIź stories, many unprintable. He was a man who loved women
and possessed an unrelenting sexual appetite. He could carouse
all night and still show up for work the next day. As former
dancer Joanna
IVEY says: "If you knew him a short time, he was
your friend. If you knew him a long time, he was your brother."
Mr. MARRIź was a man who believed in a male code of nobility
and loyalty.
Even so, women like ballet orchestra violist Valerie
KUINKA adored
him because he was spiritual and tender. Principal dancer Greta
HODGKINSON, who was romantically involved with Mr.
MARRIź for
more than five years, said he was vulnerable and sensitive yet
brutally honest.
Complex, vain and intelligent, a suave French-Canadian who had
exquisite taste, Mr.
MARRIź was a man of many facets. He loved
watching cartoons and collecting comic books and he was interested
in the supernatural. He was a master chess and pool player and
an avid golfer, and also a superb cook, gourmand and wine savant.
In fact, he dreamed of opening up a restaurant with his good
friend, tenor Richard
MARGISON, and their favourite conversations
were about the world's best wines and tequilas.
Although fiercely dedicated to his craft, Mr.
MARRIź often refused
to do press interviews or go to receptions. When he did attend,
he acted outrageously. Yet, in his final years at the National,
he took it upon himself to be gadfly to such talented youngsters
as first soloist Guillaume
COTź.
"It was scary at first, but I think he saw I had the potential
to become self-absorbed and egotistical," Mr.
COTź said. "He
wanted to teach me early, what he had come to learn late."
And then there was the motorcycle.
On the day he was promoted to principal dancer, Mr.
MARRIź showed
a dearly held, dog-eared photo of a motorbike, a Ducati, to Ms.
KUINKA, telling her it was going to be a present to himself.
"His motorcycle was all about freedom," Mr.
LANDRY said. "A hundred
kilometres [an hour] on a bike feels different than in a car.
You feel alive in the rush of speed."
For those he left behind, that was a great irony. Former soloist
Roberto CAMPANELLA said perhaps it was best that death took Mr.
MARRIź -- anything less than 120 per cent would have been a nightmare.
William MARRIź, dancer; born in Montreal on Nov. 18, 1968; died
in New York on Nov. 16, 2002.
Paula CITRON reviews dance for The Globe and Mail.